The Color Purple,
Broadway, review: 'sharp and infectious'

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Jennifer Hudson and Britain's Cynthia Erivo star in a crackling Broadway adaptation of the Pulitzer-winning novel

Set in the racist, sexist rural Georgia of the early-20th century, Alice Walker’s Pulitzer-winning 1982 novel, The Color Purple, is a tragic exposition of the treatment and experiences of African-American women in America’s Deep South. But breathing fresh life - and powerful lungs - into the seminal story is a 28 year-old British actress from Stockwell, South London.

Making her Broadway debut, Cynthia Erivo reprises the role of Celie Johnson, which she created in the 2013 production at London’s Menier Chocolate Factory. In the considerably more expansive Bernard B Jacobs Theatre, the show’s staging is pared-back and minimal (chairs starkly suspended against a wall of wooden planks) and features few props (a few woven baskets, some linen, a Bible).

There has been a deliberate effort by Scottish director John Doyle to create the sense of a story that could be told in a barn or on a porch in Georgia itself as easily as in a 1,200-seat New York theatre.

The 40 year-sweep of the narrative has also been judiciously streamlined and restructured under Doyle’s direction, dispensing in particular with much of the action that takes place in Africa. The result is a production that is tight, taught and powerful, focusing firmly on Celie’s growth from a put-upon 14 year-old victim of rape and domestic violence to an assertive feminine force who knows her own worth. After belting out her anthem of survival, I’m Here, Celie’s entire physical presence is transformed, her walk infused with a newly confident, self-possessed swagger.

RADA-trained Erivo shines even in a cast of starry company, including American Idol winner Jennifer Hudson, who perfectly inhabits the lusted-after lounge singer Shug Avery – with her mix of sophistication and raw sexuality, her jewel-bright kimonos and dresses standing out and distinguishing her refusal to kowtow to patriarchal oppression. Danielle Brooks, meanwhile, best known for her role in Orange Is the New Black, injects some levity while stealing scenes as the feisty, indomitable Sofia.

The upbeat score, an infectiously noisy blend of blues, gospel and jazz, is triumphant enough to inspire more than just polite applause from the audience, whose enthusiastic whoops and cheers spilt over into vociferous appreciation, even during moments of moving and dramatic dialogue.

The most traditionally Broadway-esque of the musical numbers, Miss Celie’s Pants, is a colourful celebration of female liberation through trousers and entrepreneurship, while Push Da Button is a deliciously saucy call to amorous arms, with choreographic nods to Beyoncé.

And with dialogue between the sexes as sharp and contemporary as the dance moves, I left the theatre not only with ringing ears and damp eyes, but also a notebook full of witty, pithy new one-liners and put-downs.